


Pink Ruffles and Bows

by Lyrigol



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Gen, She's a terrible person, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-05-31 11:57:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6469246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyrigol/pseuds/Lyrigol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn't matter how Umbridge tries to hide herself in layers. Everyone can see the rotting husk underneath, no matter how sweet her smile is or how wide her eyes are held open. Poison just oozes out of her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pink Ruffles and Bows

Whenever she needs comfort she would always run the mantra through her mind. _Lies are wishes, wishes that aren’t fulfilled._ A mantra that always echoed what Dolores Jane Umbridge had always believed in, ever since her father whispered that into her ear as he tucked her in one night. She would hear him whisper it again and again throughout her life as she struggled towards power and respect. Two thing that her father lost, two things she gained back.

The lack of her magic prowess has always bothered Dolores and her father, though the two of them knew that it wasn’t due to a lack of trying. If it weren’t for her dratted mother, polluting her blood like this, her magic wouldn’t have been stunted with Muggle blood. 

Whenever Dolores sat on the floor of her room, shaking with anger and screaming for justice, her father would always pick up the pieces, hold her close and told her of how power came in more than one form. Dolores had listened attentively back then, hanging to every word from her father, but time marched on leaving him behind. Some days, when she indulged herself, she would mourn the loss of her father, what he could have been. At the end of the day there was never any place for the weak. 

Nowadays, Dolores entertained herself with thoughts of how he died in disgrace, with no one to attend his funeral. She’d laugh, alone in her office, eyes fixed on the bubbles swirling around in her drink. Indulgence lead to terrible alcohol fueled fits, fits Umbridge was quite happy to forget about. The weekly drinking session she had dedicated to her father stopped after she smashed the window on her door with her wand. From then on, she marked her father’s allowance as house maintenance and put him out of her mind. 

Instead, she would focus on her work at the Ministry. It wouldn’t do for her to set such of a bad face to her coworkers and future employees. If she wanted respect, she would have to present herself a witch worthy of respect. Imperfections would have to be hidden away, left to rot in some forgotten corner. As she climbed the ranks, hiding became easier and easier as she became acquainted with how corrupted the Ministry was. Every questionable choice, action, and offer weakened the foundation of wizarding society. But then again weaknesses were meant to be abused. A couple of lies and a well placed smile shot her up the ranks. A couple of well placed rumors caused those eager to expose her to vanish, much like her father did.

By the time she hit twenty-five there was a steady rhythm to her promotions, letting Umbridge turn her focus away from work for a while. Getting promoted was a way to obtain power, but without any true means to secure it. Security was just as important as growing power in her opinion — and marriage! Marriage was a way to do both, if you married up into a prestigious family. Umbridge knew that while marrying into one of the sacred Twenty-Eight would have brought her instantly to the pool of power the pureblood tapped into, there was no chance that it would happen. Her only option were her superiors.

Every chance she got she tried to cozy up to them, flirting with them in the hopes that they will become attached and boost her up. She went to party after party, requested dozens of private meetings. Despite her best efforts none of them were ever convinced, no matter how much she changed her tactics. Furious that her latest conquest refused to even be in the same room as her, Dolores dropped her dreams of marriage, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. It would seem that she was doomed to be an old maid. She grew tired of looking old and mature, turning back to her childhood fashion. Bows in her hair, bright colored clothes, laces and ruffles. The first time someone snicked when she walked past was the last time it happened.

When one of Hogwarts’ professors was exposed as a werewolf, Umbridge leapt at the opportunity. The public was baying for justice — how dare Albus Dumbledore threaten their children like that? Justice that Umbridge brought when she introduced her new law. A law that made it illegal for werewolves to do anything without identifying themselves. This, she promised, would make wizarding society safer, and bring down the amount of werewolf attacks each year. The law passed with flying colors, drawing in the attention of Cornelius.

A few compliments and bright smiles in his general direction landed her the position of Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic. Two years later her toil had finally paid off. Cornelius was flying into a blind panic whenever someone utters Albus Dumbledore around him. Granted he wasn’t completely incorrect, as Dumbledore was surely up to something, but becoming Minister was a bit of a stretch. His healthy paranoia has developed into a weakness to exploit.

Power over the Minister of Magic should have been enough for her, theoretically she is as powerful as Lucius Malfoy. But she never did manage to curb her habit of keeping an eye out for opportunities. Chances to grow her influence over the Wizengamot was never passed by. With each day that goes by another pro-Muggle law gets closer to being passed. Each law that is passed weakens the bond between Muggle and wizard. If this continues unhindered, Dolores won’t just be one of the few wizarding children affected by Muggle blood. She can’t just sit in the sidelines as she watches wizarding kind heading to their doom. Laws can halt the expansion of Muggle inclusiveness, but the real way to stop pro-Muggle ideas would be to stop the idea at its roots, to stop the children from desiring acceptance among the two races.

Control the youth and you control the future, she thought as she made her way through the halls towards Cornelius. All it will take is a whisper or two to send him on a frenzied panic. She could spin it many ways, but perhaps… Yes, Cornelius was afraid of Dumbledore, an easy weakness that she can abuse. She raps the door three times before pushing it open. 

“Cornelius? Something concerning has been discovered about Hogwarts.” Umbridge let her mouth tug into a frown. Inside Cornelius leapt to his feet, panic already entering his eyes. She hadn’t even mentioned Dumbledore yet. She simpered, “Cornelius, are you alright? Would you like to sit down before I tell you more?”

“No! No, I’m fine.” He took a deep breath, smoothing out the front of his shirt, “You merely startled me. Don’t worry about it.”

She kept up her mask of concern and said, “We’ve just discovered that there is a portion of the student population that is incredibly loyal to Albus Dumbledore. This combined with the possibility that Dumbledore has private training sessions with his students… Well, can you see my concerns?”

Judging by his pale face, he could. Umbridge took a step into the room, her face open and a soft smile spreading over her face, “Minister, I understand that this information came during a turbulent time, but please,” she softened her voice and took his shaking hand in hers, “please remember that you aren’t alone in this. I could help out, there isn’t much of my job that requires me to stay here.”

As Dolores spoke Fudge seemed to calm down, nodding along when she made her point. He wasn’t catching on, and the longer she waited for him to say something the more he seemed to retreat into his own mind.

“Perhaps we could keep an eye on Hogwarts this year?” she said, watching Cornelius snap out of his thoughts at the sound of her voice, “It wouldn’t be that hard to slip someone into Hogwarts, especially since the students Hogwarts are producing are getting lower and lower OWL and NEWT score each year.”

He nods again, “Yes, thank you for bringing this to my attention. Why don’t you get back to your work Dolores?”

As soon as her back was turned to the Minister, Umbridge sneered. One of Fudge’s greatest flaw was how he constantly underestimated everyone around him. Such delusions will bring about his downfall. 

“As thanks for bringing this to my attention, you will be the first to know of my decision.”

Dolores stepped back into the halls, the door swinging shut behind her. At least something good came out of that. Controlling Hogwarts is no longer her problem, but if she wants in on the results she’ll need to endear herself to Cornelius. Money was out of the question, but crushing his opponents was something she can easily do.

Albus was the one inspiring the most panic, yet the one person doing the most damage to Fudge’s reputation was Harry Potter. A minor, subject to the law, with no real power beyond his fame. The only real threat he poses is letting the wrong ideas spread. If Dolores is careful enough, she can eliminate him without calling the attention of Dumbledore, who will without a doubt try to save his precious student.

She set her plans into motion right after a criminal trial. It ended on the cusp of night, when few would be wandering the halls by the courtrooms, and none would be concerned about the courtroom’s Dementors. A few hushed whispers, a promise that they would be able to take the soul of a wizard that crosses their path, was all it took to convince them to abandon their post. Convincing it to go to a Muggle neighborhood was even less challenging. Reasoning out why they accepted wasn’t her concern — as while Dementors were simple creatures, they were highly unpleasant to be around. 

Umbridge hesitated by the stairs. Getting caught doing this would be catastrophic, but she couldn’t see how she could cover her tracks. Arranging their passage to be sanctioned by an Ministry official drew attention, attention she did not need. There was no other option for her, no matter how many scenarios she ran through not a single one appealed to her. Minutes ticked by as she stood there, before finally arriving at her conclusion. It was better to let others come up with non-existent evidence of wrongdoing. If this was ever discovered then the blame would land on the Aurors’ shoulder, as it was their responsibility and duty to watch over these creatures.

The stairs up to the elevator was empty, a fine layer of dust drifting into place. It would seem that no matter what modern tone the Ministry tries to infuse into the dungeons, the stench of old age and rot will remain, as surely as how the dust will always return to settle down over the dungeon like a blanket. A fine way to cover her literal tracks. She chuckled at her own joke as she made her way back to her office. As she swept into her room, the Frolicsome Felines started their mewling. A glare tossed in their direction was enough for a bit of quiet as she picked up her purse and headed into the whirling flames in her fireplace. 

A couple days later she found herself slipping into the same courtroom, a satisfied smile upon her face. This was perhaps the best way Fudge could repay her suggestion. A front seat to watch The-Boy-Who-Lived to be sentenced to a fate worse than death. If she was more fanciable, Dolores would call it a beautiful birthday present, even if it was over a week early. The Headmaster’s prized student was about to be expelled and the possibility that she will be able to go to Hogwarts as a teacher? Cornelius had really pulled through with his side of the deal.

That was a delightful opportunity that crossed paths with her, she reflected as she settled down to wait, absently watching the well dressed Wizengamot filter in. The cold room was filled with the sound of pews stretching and groaning to accommodate their collective weight. Figuratively of course, wizards of such standing would never stand to sit upon a defective piece of furniture. 

Her thoughts turned inwards, turning over Cornelius’s offer in her head. A chance to go back to Hogwarts, keeping an eye on the youth for the Ministry. Dolores had always thought of herself as a theoretical person, without desire to see all of her plans falls to pieces in reality. Yet she had always wanted lord over the students. Children were loud and annoying, petty and shortsighted, but it will be more tolerable as a teacher. If she were to become a teacher anything in her classroom is under her control, and no one can challenge her position. It would be one of the most secure job she could be in. The job security was probably why she agreed to Fudge’s plan of placing her in a teaching position she was not qualified for. This was also a chance to fulfill one of her long lost dreams, to be able to shape the mighty school in whichever way she chose.

The murmuring grew louder, just a tick, and dragged Dolores out of her memories. A quick sweep showed no signs of Potter showing up. The murmurs turned into hushed chatter, rising with Dolores’s irritation. She shifted so that her purse was closer to her. She can’t feel her wand like some of the other witches claimed, but she knows it’s there. Her fingers itched to check the time, to see if it would be legal to pursue another charge of avoiding the court, but it just wasn’t proper. There was already someone assigned to inform the Wizengamot if they were free to leave, if Harry Potter would be guilty of avoiding the due course of justice. 

Instead, she jabbed Cornelius making sure that he was looking at her before whispering, “Even if Harry Potter is choosing to snub the court it just wouldn’t do for the Wizengamot to be sitting around, chattering like a hoard of Cornish Pixies!”

He hummed in agreement, standing up to quiet the disgruntled mass of witches and wizard. In the silence, Dolores only became far more aware of every sound that manages to pass through the wooden door. Mainly, it was just the thrum of the elevator as it moved from floor to floor, a glance out at the crowd of restless witches and wizards did not bode well. It didn’t take long before the whispers started again, this time much quieter than before. Dolores found it absolutely disgusting that they would undermine the Minister’s authority in such of a manner. She could sympathize with most of their complaints of an incompetent Minister, but even then Ministers are to be respected while they were in power. If they couldn’t — 

The sound of pounding feet echoing down the halls effectively shut down the uncurrent of unrest in the room. The shifting of cloth reminded Dolores to sit up straighter, eyes affixed to the dark little entrance the entire time. When the boy’s unruly head peeked into the chamber, Dolores froze up, her eyes wide. This was it, she told herself, this could be where the Boy-Who-Lived falls, and she’ll be the one who did so. The one witch that destroyed the legendary boy, when even You-Know-Who couldn’t do so. She let her smile clamp down on the wild thoughts. Presentation is everything here.

After a period of hesitation, Potter made his way to the spotlight, gingerly settling himself into chair. Immediately to her left, Cornelius stands, clears his throat, and begins the trials. The collective face of the Wizengamont looked down at him, haughty looks plastered all over their faces. Dolores was just glad that the shadows obscured her from Potter’s view. She wasn’t sure if she could keep the vicious look off her face well enough. She didn’t bother paying attention until the Wizengamot gasped.

Her eyes regaled her with images of Dumbledore floating in with his senile clothing choices. She almost lost her composure. Regardless, she comforted herself with the thought that at least she wasn’t the only one who looked shocked. The blustering sounds from the left of her told her that Fudge had already showed his hand. Then again, she amended, this entire trial is just another physical extension of his panic. It’s just... unfortunate that they wouldn’t be able to take full advantage of this opportunity. 

As the trial became progressively more skewed to Dumbledore’s side, Dolores had to keep an eye on her resentment as the trial went on. The more she lets her resentment seep out of her, the more obvious her wrongdoing will become. Each obstacle that Dumbledore overcomes only serves to make her mouth pinch tighter, her entire face aching with how tightly clenched her face was. It would help her feel less disappointed, a tried and true method that has been using since she set foot in Hogwarts. 

On the other hand, Cornelius only became more and more flustered with each twist and hoop Dumbledore waltz through, his face flushing red and stuttering in anger. She could almost feel the crack of disbelief from the Wizengamont. The longer the trials drag on for the more they doubt. If he doesn’t get his act together he’ll never recover. The one thing that has been going for him was that he managed to get the Daily Prophet convince everyone that both the Headmaster of Hogwarts and the Boy-Who-Lived were insane, untrustworthy people. But the two of them seemed completely unfazed, barely even touched by the overwhelming amount of negative opinion.

The urge to talk itched inside of her, causing her to bide her time. Sooner or later there will be an opening between Dumbledore, Bones, and Cornelius. With Fudge slowly falling under their demands at the very least she can try to regain control over the situation. Umbridge had nothing to lose by doing so and possibly everything to gain. Possibly.

Silence fell, and she stood, determined to not let the chance slip through her fingers. Fudge went through the formalities of noting her presence, giving her permission to speak. 

She spoke loudly, letting the dome of the chamber echo her words back, “I’m sure I must have misunderstood you, Professor Dumbledore. How very silly of me. But it sounded for a teensy moment as though you were suggesting that the Ministry of Magic had ordered an attack on this boy!” She laughed, finally provoking a response from the audience. When Dumbledore began to respond, she sat down. Surely, surely Fudge will be able to handle it from here. 

But no, no sooner than she sat down Fudge erupted, spewing nonsense everywhere, outright throwing the opportunity she gave him away. The more impassioned he became, the less she felt. As if his emotional outburst was sapping away her. For once in her lifetime, her face was completely smoothed out without any feelings to mar the visage. It seems she did not do a good enough job eliminating the threat Potter possesses.

She let the hate boil through her. She can always deal with it later, when she was crushing his spirit. Later. For now it seems that conquering Hogwarts just became a challenge.

**Author's Note:**

> This only exists because I actually forgot how horribly competent of a person she was in OotP. Like??? Apparently it's canon that she created the Bloodquill???


End file.
